


Comprehend This Curse

by brightpyrite



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Reverse, Angel Dean Winchester, Angel Sam Winchester, Domestic, Human Castiel, Human Gabriel, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-02-26 12:58:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2652833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightpyrite/pseuds/brightpyrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel doesn't know how to exactly describe his first contact with an angel. The two begin an unlikely alliance, but Gabriel calls it tolerance. Sam begs to differ, and calls it fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. passed the age of reason.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whatever Gabriel expected that night, it wasn't some going to be an angel telling him that he was special. But it happened anyways, because things never go Gabriel's way.

It's murky, Gabriel declares silently, gazing out the window. It definitely is murky, and he has too much work to do. In fact, the weather is too dull to get progress on anything. It hasn't begun raining yet, but the ashy gray clouds are bloated with water and the air is heavy and damp. He knows it's about to rain in about three hours. He should be a meteologist, seriously.

His dinner was simple today, but whatever he'd eaten is now a distant memory and something not worth recalling. It was reasonable, he knows, but that's all. And he's not incredibly social now, and he considers the option of waiting out the rainstorm by sleeping through. Admittedly, he takes large pride in his bedroom, often showing people the appeal of the particularly nice bed. It doesn't always end in coitus, but that is okay, and Gabriel holds that as no priority.  
After all, it'd be a bit overloading for constant sex. Lots of it, yes. All the time, no.

Anyway, the bedroom is mint green with stripes of cyan, the carpeted rug a threaded peachy color. The bed pillows, duvet, and blankets- get this- royal purple. Amazing. 

Gabriel wishes to be able to be one of the people who could just jump in bed and start snoring. But no, it's not the case with him, and he lies there, groggy but unable to sleep. At some point he does anyway, but it's begun to rain already.

\--

Gabriel mutters something vulgar, muffled by the loud smacks of fat raindrops and thunderclaps throughout the dreary town. It's long past evening, and the man is ambling down the stairs to get a drink, particularly alcohol, but he knows that's not ideal. Gabriel's not going to sleep anytime soon, anyway. He certainly wishs he was. Waking up early were regrettable sins he continuously made.

Whatever. He's awake but blurry, and he can't tell if the shadow in the corner of the room was watching him in the corner of his eye or not, and quite frankly, he doesn't give a shit about that, or anything else (for that matter). A lukewarm champagne bottle stands on the living room coffee table solemnly, and Gabriel is thinking, _"Eh, why not,"_ as he pours himself a generous glass to keep himself busy.

At some point, his dog had awoken to accompany Gabriel on his lonely midnight drink. A good life. A simple one, but some awful misfortunes seem so inevitable, somehow, in the close future. However, Gabriel swallows those ideas down with sweets and alcohol, not caring for consequences just yet. Which is a terrible idea, obviously, but it didn't matter quite yet.

He feels a pulling urge to watch a terrible romantic-comedy and laugh through it, but decides against it, because he knows in a few hours he'll be wishing for a romance like that, since being drunk does that to him. Gabriel doesn't remember clearly the last he'd gotten drunk (high metabolism is a great thing apparently) but he can assume it was chaos.

And Gabriel sips the alcohol slowly, simutaneously petting the mixed breed canine, for roughly ten minutes before he suddenly smells the sharp tendrils of smoke, and some strange fragrance. He wonders if he's already drunk, but he blinks furiously and runs tongue twisters out of his mouth, he knows he's not. "Ugh. What-"

Gabriel immediately startles (his glass flying somewhere unknown), and as he does, a crackle of bright light that nearly blinded him sparks in the middle of the living room, between himself and the television set. His mutt whines and yips, toppling off the couch to find a safe hideout from the sudden noise. "Woah, woah, bud, calm down-" The lights are dimmed low, but there's a sudden shadow towering over him, and Gabriel braces himself, looking up cautiously at the stranger that somehow popped into the room.

"Shit." He raises his palms, and heaves a sigh, wincing. "Take anything you'd fancy, just don't murder me or my dog." Gabriel wasn't well-off but he wasn't freakin' broke either. Also, he wasn't an idiot against an armed robber.  
But when his eyes flicker down to see the danger he was in, the robber appeared to be unarmed, his hands hanging at his sides almost awkwardly.

"Hello, Gabriel Novak." What the everloving fuck?

"Um," a smile of relief almost overrules his fear, but he catches himself just in time. "Who the hell are you?" At least he wasn't in the risk of death anymore. Thank God.

The massive stranger, in the dim light, seems to be unsettled by something he had said, but replies evenly, "Samuel. You have not heard of me, I'm sure."

"No, was I supposed to expect you to arrive here at one in the morning?" Gabriel asks uneasily. "Uninvited?"

"I understand your discomfort," nods _Samuel_ , glancing toward the corner where Gabriel's pet cowered, "but I am to be sincerely trusted."

"Yeah, totally," drawls Gabriel sardonically. "Who do you work for, again?"

"The Lord," says the stranger simply, and Gabriel stiffens.

"Wow, you're really damn high, aren't you?" The blond man swiftly scooches over to swipe his phone. "Can I call anyone? Your siblings, partner, colleagues, parents, whatever?"

"I," he starts, cocking his head to the side, "my Father sent me to look over you. You'd know him as God in general terms."

"You're not serious," retorts Gabriel, still gesturing the phone.

Samuel's mouth is pressed in a thin line, as if pushing back some sort of frustration. "I will show you." And without waiting for an answer, takes Gabriel's hand roughly, who in returns yelps.  
It sends a rippling jolt up his arm, through their physical contact. The current is electrifying and Gabriel swears it hurts, until it seems to begin numbing in the most best, pleasant way. He doesn't notice how he grips Samael's hand tighter, because he's such a damn hedonist and he's so going to hell for that cause. But his cloudiness is instantly broken once Samuel withdraws, detaching that wondrous spark that literally clambered, weaving itself into his flesh. Gabriel can honestly say it's not at all sexual, just childish addicting bliss.

"God," heaves Gabriel. "That was...." He wasn't actually sure what he was about to end that sentence with, but Samuel offers another tight-lipped smile.

"I will not harm you for malicious purposes, Gabriel," starts the angel, but is interrupted quickly.

"What the hell was that?" There's evident awe in his voice, and he doesn't even try to hide it.

"A very subdued sense of my Grace," prompts Samuel.

"So you're an angel?" Gabriel clarifies incredulously. "... Sent to protect me?"

"Yes, to both inquiries."

Suddenly, a sharp, almost hysterical laugh escapes Gabriel and he chokes on it. There's a moment of silence as he wipes his eyes free of the tears, and he hastily clears his throat of any grittiness. This no doubt disconcerts Samuel, but he doesn't do anything about it except grimace as he looks down at Gabriel. "So you're like a- a guardian angel? Like the one in Mr.Bevis, from Twilight Zone?" It's like he can't even stop himself from the dumb pop culture references.

"Ah." Samuel raises one shoulder and slumps it back down, like a one-sided shrug. "I suppose."

"That's- that's amazing." Whether Gabriel's trying to be sarcastic or not, is beyond him. "So you'll just, I don't know, pop in time to time to check on me?"

"Yes, but they'll be strictly scheduled visits," he replies stiffly.

The lightning flashes at the wide living room window, and as if to supremely mock Gabriel, strikes a shadow behind Samuel. And the shadow, God forbid, appears to be a human figure with massive, disfigured wings, plumage and flight feathers missing in large bundles- but Gabriel reconsiders his sight, as it only flickered for a split second before vanishing completely.

"Yeah, okay," the human begins deliberately, "but how would I know you won't kill me in my sleep?" He's sudden gotten this idea that perhaps the angel will not lie to his face.

Surprisingly, this visibly alarms Samuel. "I will never intentionally harm you for malicious purposes, Gabriel Novak. That is completely out of question."

"... Right."

"I feel as if you do not entirely trust me yet." His tone lingers on the last word, as if expecting confirmation.

"Nevermind that, Samuel," he dismissively waves his hand, "although, is this your real shape on earth, or...?"

The angel peers down on his tall, and well-built body, that's clothed in worn jeans and flannel. "No, this is just a suitable vessel. I believe he was of Winchester descent."

Gabriel grimaces immediately, "Would that imply you killed this guy to wear his skin?"

The atmosphere suddenly switches, and the cold pricks Gabriel's skin, goosebumps appearing. "I don't condone to reckless or meaningless murder," Samuel says quietly, "there was complete consent before I entered his body."

"Oh." Gabriel welt as if he was somehow able to press all the wrong buttons on irking Samuel. And he wonders whether whatever the angel said was trustworthy.

"Is that all you'd like to know?"

"Yes. Well, no, kind of. Something tells me you're new to all this," states Gabriel flatly.

Samuel shifts his weight uncertainly between feet. "This is the first time I've been assigned to protect a human and leave my post in Heaven."

Oh, yes. That was the million-dollar question. "But why would I need protecting?"

There was a long pause before Samuel spoke, giving his final yet unsteady answer. "I do not know. Father will not say just yet. But, I believe you have great potential- and for that, I will support you nevertheless." He dips his head respectfully, and it intensifies the discomfort Gabriel choked back within his stomach. It was strange- treated like something so much more higher than what he actually is. But he doesn't want it to go away, not yet, anyway.

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Yes," Samuel says, adding, "if you'd like to."

"Huh," he tightened his jaw subconsciously, deciding whether to be blatant or persuasive. He chooses neither and replies easily, "I don't know about you, but I really need to sleep now." He feigns a wide and largely emphasized yawn, even throwing a few arms overhead stretches.

"Alright," the angel replies easily, and shifts, "I'll just- I'll just stay here."

Gabriel wants to cringe, although that'd probably confuse the angel more. He grabs the remote as he stands up, stumbling. He hears the familiar jingle of the collar as his dog follows him towards the stairs, and Gabriel turns back to the angel, who appears vaguely uneasy. "Uh, here." He tosses the remote control to the angel, who catches it fluidly, and incredulously stares at it, turning it round and round in his hand.

"You can figure out how to work this, by pressing the green button toward the screen, okay?" All it takes was a simple nod and Gabriel speeds up the stairs. A final slam seals the stormy night, and right before Gabriel falls asleep, he wonders why he trusts this stranger with bizarre abilities in his house as he sleeps.

It's most definitely a imminent omen, as it's the first time in damn _years_ that Gabriel dreams something wistful.

He thinks it's about family, and he scrunches his nose in disgust. Maybe it's a lie he's been telling himself all these years, as he awakes. Who knows.

Gabriel gets up the that day, and the first thing he does is switch on his laptop to search up Christian angel mythology. He views many religious sources, but in the end, decides to just ask Samuel when he swings around. He has to, anyway, at some point.


	2. learn the lines.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strangers are turning into acquaintances, and Gabriel's so aware of this nonsense, it's practically unreal. Enters Castiel into the mix, a ruffled and unsubtle brother, and as far as Sam is concerned, another angel seems to have taken interest in the possey of the unlikely.

It's the Tuesday after the strange meet and Gabriel's putting together a sloppy fruit salad, because he's much too lazy to make something extravagant. He's got the late-night shift today, which beats Monday's day shift, which is always filled with ignorant clients and nagging interns and janitors. His dog's out with the daycaretaker, so he's alone basically.

It's been five days since that night and he honestly is beginning to wonder whether it was a dream or not. It definitely seemed like one. A very elaborately-weaved one, but nonetheless a dream. 

He's in the midst of the musings, when his private cell phone begins to ring on the table, bouncing violently across the table from vibration. Gabriel snatches it and accepts the call, wedging the phone between his ear and shoulder, and he prepares the salad the right way. "Gabriel Novak, Heaven's most loved speaking."

"Gabriel," states the voice, and Gabriel's face breaks into a loose smirk.

"Castiel, what is up? I haven't heard your voice in like, two days! Three days, even."

"Gabriel, where are the meeting files that were supposed to be in with the rest after you finished reviewing them?"

"Oh, those? I brought them home."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I hadn't really finished signing all the papers." A long sigh is heard at this point.

"Gabriel-"

"Don't worry, I'll bring them when I go to work later today," Gabriel replies breezily. "It's all going to be fine."

"If you're so sure," mumbles Castiel, and then there's a tense pause before he starts again. "Gabriel, how have you been?"

"A little tired, like always. But pretty hot, how about yourself? Always looking after everyone else other than yourself, and all," Gabriel says smoothly, slicing the apples into cubes.

Castiel quite rudely ignores his question. "Have you been feeling alright?"

Was he picking up all the wrong signals? Castiel always had a tendency to do that. "I'm fine, really. Now, how about-"

"Would it be too intruding to come over? We should," Castiel stops, probably raking over his word choice, and settles for, "talk. You seem a bit off."

Gabriel frowns, and sets down his fruit peeler. "Okay, sure. Meet you in ten-twenty minutes then?"

"Yes," agrees Castiel.

"Alright, I'm going to hang up now."

"Ye-" Gabriel hangs up just then, a smile threatening to pull at his mouth.

He's hit with the idea suddenly that maybe he should let Castiel know about Samuel. Castiel always seemed to be the one to believe in angel shit and supernatural beings, anyway. 

Then again, his brother might also have his own guardian angel. Gabriel scrunches up his nose at the thought. If that were true, every conversation must have ended in an incidental staring contest. He doesn't even want to think about that- there's a lot of secondhand embarrassment there.

Gabriel finds himself clasping his hands, considering the option to pray for Samuel right then and there, if he ever were doing that properly. So there he stood, lacing his fingers together in front of a bowl of untossed salad, and dips his head down.

"Okay, so I haven't prayed in like fifteen years, so this might not get through, but- anyway, Samuel the angel, please answer my call, and come down." Gabriel cracks his eyes open and brings his head up. There's no one in front of him, just the salad and table, and Gabriel rolls his eyes.

Well. That certainly proved his point of an elaborate dream.

Gabriel grumbles, turning to grab a wooden spoon to toss the salad with, but collides with something (something hits his stomach, and he sure as hell doesn't want to go through that again), making him double over, groaning.  
"Jesus Christ!" He wheezes desperately, partially because it was such a shock, and begins to cough.

"I'm Samuel," insists the solid structure, and immediately Gabriel's world comes crashing back down on him.

"GodDAMN IT." This makes Gabriel recoil with wide alarm and the physical bruising in his side that's throbbing angrily. 

Samuel places a hand onto Gabriel's shoulder, supporting him, but also swiping away all the pain, and probably the forming bruise too.

"There's a sure chance I'm never doing that again," grunts Gabriel as he stands upright. He doesn't know why he's surprised when he sees an obvious expression of pure worry contorting Samuel's face, and he's almost obliged to laugh.

"You called," Samuel points out, with a slightly hurried tone, "has an issue arose?" His dark eyes fixate on Gabriel firmly, and he withdraws his hand.

"Uh, no. I just," he tucks his hair back behind his ear, "had some questions?"

Samuel nods, and takes this an invitation to slip into a seat. "Go on." 

Gabriel gets behind the table, and snatches the spoon. "Am I, I don't know, allowed to show you to other people?" Ugh, that sounded like some sketchy form of human auction. Not that human auctioning in general was good per se, but nevertheless.

Samuel knits his brows, "I suppose. I trust you do not have any cruel intent, Gabriel."

"Okay, great. I'm not trying to sell you off into science or slavery, Samuel, I just-"

"Not to assume anything, but I have seen human interactions end unjustly." The angel eyes the salad with peaked curiosity, and Gabriel wonders if it's the first time he's seen one.

Somehow, this triggers amusement in its own twisted way, and a snort of laughter escapes Gabriel. "You think I'm that shady as a human?"

Samuel's eyes widen, and perhaps it's just some reaction, his ears flush, and it makes Gabriel laugh more. "No! Of course not."

"You're alright, Samuel," grins the blond man, "I think you're alright."

And Samuel returns the smile (albeit hesitantly), and Gabriel knows that he's made progress in the right direction. Without breaking gaze off the salad, Samuel murmurs, "I've heard human creations with food are amazing, but my brother Dean continually proves me wrong."

"Is he the kind of person to give you all the shitty food?"

"No. Sandwiched ground meat is not as appetizing to me as it is to him, it seems," Samuel grimaces, "perhaps it's just my vessel's own preferences."

"Oh. Does it affect all of your likes and dislikes? Your vessel, I mean."

"I don't think of it like that, it's like a suggestion or warning, but not something that really determines my own enjoyments. I, myself, am still foreign to these ideas, though." Samuel fingers the buttons on his jacket, smoothing down the rumples. "Dean is much more accustomed to human culture, obviously."

"Huh. Aren't all angels technically siblings?"

"Yes. But Dean and I are... especially intimate."

"Um, alright," Gabriel doesn't think Samuel realizes how obscure that sounds, but he's not about to point it out.

"He's been walking among humans long enough, enough to copulate casually with them as well."

"Interspecies sex, huh?" Gabriel says aloud, "Is that not taboo in God's metaphorical eyes?" He lazily tosses his lunch and serves a plate for himself, before taking the seat perpendicular to Samuel's.

Samuel shrugs, "I can not presume for Him."

"And what about you? What do you think about it?"

The angel sends him an thoughtful look. "I am indifferent. Though my current purpose on earth is not to... mingle, so I will not do so."

"Okay, but does your meatsuit," Gabriel starts, gesturing Samuel's vessel, "influence an assload on your interests?"

"Um," Samuel runs his hand through his flow-y (why'd Gabriel notice that? That's dumb.) brown hair, "I'd say no. I mean, I'm quite unused to this current human society, myself."

The human digs a blueberry out of his salad and pops it into his mouth. Pushing the full plate toward Samuel, he hums, "You should try it."

"What?" Samuel's eyes widen, and the bright hazel eyes seem to absorb all the light. "No, angels do not require any human supplements, and that includes water, oxygen, and food-"

"Yadda, yadda, I know. But I bet your tastebuds are dying for something, so just try it," Gabriel insists, rolling his eyes, "besides, I didn't poison it." He offers his own metal fork.

"Yes, that is true." There's a sharp intake of air. "I would've identified the poisonous substance and filtered it out." Samuel takes the utensil gingerly, and prods the fruit with it.

"This is such unnecessary drama," mumbles Gabriel, but he watches with halted breath anyway. 

Samuel leans in, but stops, only to blink at Gabriel and state, "Is the man at the door the one you'd like me to meet?" And sure enough, the doorbell chimes, reverberating through the rooms.

"Oh, yeah! Sam, just sit in the living room until I get back." Gabriel ushers him quickly to the couch, and skids to the door, where he flings open the door.

"Gabriel," greets Castiel, a crease at his brow, "I've been meaning to talk to you."

"No private talk right now, sorry, I've got a guest I'd like you to meet!" Gabriel pulls Castiel in and mutters, "it's someone important."

Castiel hastily withdraws, and squints at Gabriel, searching for any signs of a joking manner. When he finds none, Castiel swallows and responds with a slow nod.

When they reach the living room, Samuel is already waiting expectantly for them both, nodding. Castiel steps forward and extends a hand. "Castiel, Gabriel's brother. I'm very happy for you two, though not to be rude, I expected someone more, uh, feminine." His eyes flick away momentarily, before offering an apologetic smile. On the other hand, Gabriel lets out a noise of utter confusion.

"No worries," Samuel smiles, and cups Castiel's hand gently, but he's talking to Gabriel when he says, "You're right, Gabriel, his spirit is pure and well-guided."

"Thank you," Castiel replies, "and you seem to balance Gabriel out well. I'm happy for you two."

While Samuel seems to accept this (though a bit naïvely), Gabriel intervenes, sputtering, "Woah, woah- Cas, we're not _together,_ together. Isn't that right, Sam?"

"Yes. Our relationship is confidential," he confirms.

"What he means to say, is that we're good friends," Gabriel hastily insists. "And that's pretty much all." Man, does he want to choke Samuel out with chocolate to avoid any unnecessary talk from arising.

"Oh! I'm very sorry. How did you two... meet?" Castiel fumbles his words out of purely embarrassment, and shifts his gaze away once more.

"I was sent to-" begins Samuel.

"Um, you know what, that's a really long story, involving a lot of strippers and alcohol," interjects Gabriel, waving his hand dismissively, "now, do you really want to hear it?"

"No, I get the gist of it," assures Castiel. "Gabriel, do you have the slides ready for the presentation?"

"Pretty ready, I hope." Gabriel shrugs. "I don't know, I just looked over my slides."

"That's a bad habit, Gabriel, and I encourage you to cut it."

"Relax, at least I still have my job."

"At least? This is a family-run business, Gabriel. If your own brothers didn't accept you, who would?" Castiel sends Samuel the classic, "can you believe this guy?" look, in which Samuel feigns understanding of the joke.

"Celebrities?"

Castiel heaves a sigh, smoothing back his hair. "Alright then. It's nice meeting you, Samuel- Gabriel can be a bit oblivious. Frequently, actually." Castiel turns toward the door, calling back over his shoulder, "Don't screw up the conference, Gabriel, and Samuel: please keep him in check!"

The door clicks shut, and Gabriel slumps into a seat with a huff, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. There's a dish of Hershey kisses on it, and he fishes a handful, slowly unwrapping than and eating them one by one. Without warning, Samuel leaves the room, and Gabriel can see through reflections, that he's resumed his act of poking the salad and testing it in cautionary bites.

Gabriel decides it will be another time when he finally explains to his brother that Samuel was not human.

"You know," the human hears the angel say, "you called me 'Sam' as a shortened version of Samuel. I quite like that."

"Glad to hear that, Sammy." Gabriel hears the chewing stop at his remark, and he believes that maybe, he's revealed yet another button to push to irk Samuel.

And maybe Samuel has more human consciousness than Gabriel believes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more exposition, as it was needed. a hell lot more dialogue!


	3. interlude: something worth recalling.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel doesn't quite understand what's happening downstairs. But frankly, so doesn't Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam's pov, just to make it clear. a more casual update in the story, haha! (a lil nsfw)

Before Gabriel went to bed, he guides Samuel to the desktop computer, and sat him down, firmly stating something of, "be careful," "don't click on the flashing squares," and something of, "just try to operate the computer." Gabriel turns it on the screen and monitor of running circuits and patterns, and it flickers on.   
He sets him on a web browser (supposedly that's what it's called, no relation to spiders) and directs the page to Wikipedia.

"I, uh, guess you like this shit," mumbles Gabriel, clicking the mouse (again, no relation to the rodent) onto the random page button on site. 

"Oh," Sam says once the screen settles onto a massive article on erotic adult novels. Before the human hastily punches down the random button, the image on the right depicts of a bare woman and a bear as a cover of a best-selling hit.

"Yeah, no, sorry Sam. I'm not letting you get scarred for life, not today," points Gabriel, and honestly, Sam doesn't quite understand, considering how all natural life is beautiful and not at all horrendous. He allows Gabriel to know of his opinion, and the human merely scoffs at him. "Not in this generation, Sammy."

He allows Gabriel to know his opinion on that nickname too.

The page redirects him to the French Revolution, and Gabriel pulls away from the computer. "There. If you want to read something else or check on whatever, press these things." He does so, to illustrate his instructions. 

"Thank you," Sam blinks, gently scrolling the screen with the mouse.

"If you don't want to use that, just use your finger; it's touchscreen."

Gabriel could've said that early, but Sam assumed he also forgot, seeing how limited the human's short-term memory was. In fact, he recalls Gabriel telling him that he'd forgotten what his previous meal had consist of. Frequently, actually.

"Oh, and, keep it quiet, alright? If you're going to watch some science documentary stuff and whatnot." And with that, Gabriel leaves the room with a hasty pace, as though were to be late to some appointment.  
Sam nods in the direction of the stairway anyway, and returns to the computer, where he reads deeply into the catalysts of the French Revolution. It comes to him suddenly that Dean once notified him of this human event occurring, as he'd been walking among the people at that time period as well.  
It wasn't that long ago, only a few centuries or so.

Time passes fruitlessly, and when Sam finally glances down at the digital clock- it's been already two hours and he's been floundering around on Wikipedia's site. He decides to exit out and change pages onto the default webpage. Searchtheweb.com, or something as such. He didn't really pay attention, as he types in "Angels," in the search bar that successfully allowed him to click upon.  
It's admittedly quite obscure to see humans respond in emotions well-beyond what angel's can perceive, even using a human vessel. Especially when Sam first felt the pull of his human vessel's subconsciousness on specific topics, such as the salad that the eagerly consumed the other day.  
It was rather good, and he supposes it is partially his vessel's own reasoning why he found it delicious.

As an aside note, he sees many photographs of assumed angel wings tattooed on people's skin in ink. It ranges, from short and rounded, flowing and smooth, to sharp and grotesque wings.

Wings don't look like that at all. At the same time, they really did. The variation from angel to angel is bizarre, yet so mundane through his eyes. 

In his thoughts, he scrolls down through various results, frequently clicking on ones that sounded rather sensible. For instance, church communities and religious organizations, were the ones to appeal to him. Returning to the search bar, he types in, "Judeo-Christian Angel Mythology."  
On the side of his screen, there was an advertisement (that's what it said underneath the image) of a woman with the cyan letters over her bosom, concealing her chest just barely. In which the letters spelt out, "Wanna meet an angel straight from heaven? Click here!" Sam fails to notice how _Click here!_ is covering her genital region as he clicks it.

Perhaps he could detect his brothers and sisters. Consequently, many do enjoy life on earth and are much more "up-to-date" with the most recent social trends and all that.

Sam doesn't flinch once the sloppy sound breaks through the still, night air, and it's a film- a rather blurry one. He's not sure what's going on in said film, but it sounds wet and almost painful. Specifically when the feminine figure cried out, and Sam knits his brows incredulously.  
It's all very confusing, so Sam watches it with scrutinizing gaze, absorbing everything into his mind.  
"Oh." Sam lets out a deadpan noise as the man suddenly undresses completely. "This is...." He doesn't quite finish his sentence, as he is too caught up in the current motions inside the video. It's all very intriguing, to say the least.

Sam spends the rest of the night filing through these videos. He's tempted to show Dean what he's found, after all, he's sure Dean will enjoy this sort of thing. 

When daybreak arrives the next morning, Gabriel is up early, unlike normally where'd he'd get the chance to sleep in as much as possible. Sam is already at the kitchen, reading the ingredients off several boxes of surgary cereal.  
"How are you?" greets Sam, looking up.

"Good," replies Gabriel, humming, "I get to pick up Thunder today."

"Ah, I wondered when your dog was coming back, but didn't want to intrude."

Gabriel rolls his eyes, pulling the coffee filters out of the cabinet, "You don't want to intrude into my personal life and you call yourself my guardian angel? God, Sam, I thought you knew better than this." His tone is playful, indicating an light jeer.

A huff escapes Sam, "You're rather sarcastic, Gabriel. I hope it's not contagious."

Gabriel's eyes widen as he sputters, "Did you just freaking sass me, Sam?"

This pulls a puzzled expression out of Sam as well. "What?"

"Damn it Sam, you really are something. Watching porn at night and sassing me in the morning?"

Sam cocks his head, "Porn?" So that's what it's called. Good reference for next time, he notes.

The blond man heaves a sigh, "Alright, nevermind that. Just- just help me get the cage into the back of the car, okay?"

Before Gabriel leaves the room to start up the car, he calls over his shoulder, "If erotic material is becoming your thing, turn down the volume at least."

That's probably a good reference for next time, too.


	4. to know trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel decides it's a good time for Sam to get a taste of a supermarket. A certain someone tags along, but even so, it's not so bad- for Gabriel. Hey, the guy's got great taste in food and women.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last updated: dec. 2, 2014  
> woah

"Outward appearances are so important to humans," muses Samuel, switching channels noisily from some shampoo commercial pinpointing ladies with luscious locks to a medical drama previewing a gorgeous doctor manning the clinic. "Everyone of them are beautiful to God, which is why he created them."

"Um, if you haven't noticed, humans are screwed up creatures that have a bloated ego if they fit a certain standard of what society thinks is hot," Gabriel replies breezily, looking up momentarily from his work. He eyes the way Sam systematically glides his hand over Thunder's stocky body in a very timely manner, succeeding in quieting him down.

That wasn't common for his dog to stay calm for more than a few minutes- maybe angels had some sort of calming Grace to them?

"Are they? I don't doubt a great deal of them are misguided though." Sam grimaces, eyes narrowing with scrutiny.

"We should go shopping, and I'll show you the wonders of our society," suggests Gabriel. He clips the pages back into the folder, and tosses it easily in the case, before pushing himself away from the desk and standing up.

"That would be nice."

Gabriel checks the time, "Do you wanna head out now to buy some groceries for dinner?" They'll get the idea of dinner at the market, since he's coming up blank with the ingredients he has at the moment. Cereal was always a classic, but it seemed to petty to serve an angel with. What do they eat? The sins of evil people and light, probably.

"Shall we have the mixed lettuces?" Samuel tears his gaze away from the flashing television, and watches Gabriel with bright interest.

Gabriel closes the kitchen cabinets. "Yeah, that's not going to happen. Let's try something better put together."

"Oh," Samuel responds, with a slightly dejected tone, and Gabriel snorts with amusement, turning on him.

"Are you pouting?"

"No," he denies slowly, "no, it's fine. I'm fine."

"I'd agree, but then that'd be irony at its finest."

"Sorry?" Sam reverts his gaze back at Gabriel, apparently not even focusing on the conversation; having the film noises tune him out.

"Nevermind," Gabriel scoffs airily, biting back a snicker. "I'll be ready in, eh, ten minutes or so."

"I'll stay here," responds Sam, nodding, and returning his gaze to the television.

"Yeah, yeah, okay." Gabriel strides upstairs, almost toppling over at the top stair, grabbing his jacket.

Today, loose articles of clothing were strewn around his room in a haphazard way, losing the soft magic it normally contained. Empty plastic water bottles accumulated in a corner, and he finally dumps them into the trash bin, nearly overflowing it. Bringing a shirt to his nose, he smells it, shrugs, and strips off his casual clothes for the collared button-down.

Below, Sam is unnaturally quiet, and even the television volume seemed to have dropped low.

He checks himself out in the mirror nonchalantly, pulling his pajama pants down (revealing red satiny boxers) and so wrapped up in his own thoughts, he almost doesn't process Thunder yipping after being mellow for such a long while.

And in the midst of the quiet, something like a lightbulb bursts with its common wispy fizz as the shards cool down, causing Gabriel to jump and huff out, "Shit."

"Sam-" he starts, but is interrupted by someone else.

"Man, dude doesn't have a minibar, but his fridge is stocked well enough," exclaims a masculine voice, with several deep shades of amusement, "mind if I...?"

"Stop it," a rather familiar voice abruptly interjects with a firm tone, "this is _his_ house, if you've forgotten. I don't even remember inviting you here on such short notice." Thunder lets out another half-hearted bark.

"Yeah, well, he's not showing anyway."

"He's upstairs!"

"Then we'll wait until he's down here, and we'll crank out the introductions, geez." There's a rustle of glass clinking together, most likely his refrigerator door swinging shut. "You're a little protective of him, aren't you, Sammy."

"He's my guardian mate, why would you expect otherwise?"

There is a chuckle and a prolonged pause. "I don't. But, uh, tell your mate to lay off the candy some time."

The amount of uninvited guests in his house is on the rise, and it's only to his terrible luck that it will continually grow.  
But the remark is spoken with enough nonchalance, that Gabriel stiffens with annoyance. It wasn't as if his house was trashed with torn wrappers and foil, just a few dishes of sweets here and there.

"He has high metabolism, but I regulate his consumption anyway," is the response. "He's not doing bad." What's up with that?

How did he know that anyway? Gabriel sure as hell did not tell him that. Also, mates? What were they, some primitive lowlife beast species that relied on breeding and natural selection? Probably just pretentious biblical schwarmy nonsense, either way.

"What the hell," he breathes anyway, and peels himself away from the wall, brushing himself off. Smoothing down his collar, he calls with a certain boldness, "Hey, Sam- Samuel, just give me a moment, will you? I'll be down in a second." He doesn't exactly have an explanation for his stutter, but it's better to be polite than have a hostile angel on your heels.

Another subdued pause in the atmosphere fills the room, before Sam replies. "That's fine. Take your time."

"And the human talks!" cries the other angel asshole, "I thought he was just going to continue eavesdropping on our little chitchat."

Yeesh.

Gabriel just rolls his eyes as he walks downstairs, buttoning his sleeves and pushing them elbow-length, just as Sam turns fiercely to the man beside him.

He narrows his eyes up at the gruff-ass angel, who fixates his eyes casually at the human, daring him to speak.

"So, this is the real-life Ken doll?" Gabriel begins deliberately.

The reciprocator just snorts, "Dean. Chedean, whatever. No need for titles here." Shifting his gaze back to the bristling Sam, Dean hums, "So how's it going with shorty here?"

"Dean, stop," Sam levels his gaze sharply at the other angel, a familiar scold alit in his expression, "This is my human, don't cause him any disrespect."

"Your human?" echoes Dean, disbelieving- though quite frankly, Gabriel was thinking the same, "You must've been a blast to hang around. Instead of 'your human,' why don't you call him something more typical? I don't know, maybe like his real name-"

"Gabriel," cuts in the human, "They call me Gabriel."

There's an icy, steely look in Sam's eyes, so Gabriel continues, "So you're that angel that Sammo here keeps talking about! Fall a little short on my standards though." He does so to prevent Sam from biting out another chastisement, which succeeds, and Sam shoots Gabriel a sideways glare.

"I'm flattered, but I could say the same to you." Dean cracks a smile, entirely ignoring Sam's noise of protest, "Sam loves his big brother deep down, and everyone up in Heaven knows it." Gabriel loosely shows a smile of his own.

"You shouldn't of had come at this time, Dean," mutters Sam, off to the side, becoming distinctly more  exasperant.

"Eh, either way I'd be acquainted with your new lover."

"He doesn't mean that- he's very loose with his words," Sam reassures Gabriel, "often not meaning what he says." Shooting Dean an absolute look of deadpan annoyance (the sort of thing you'd see on television, when the people purposely look straight into the camera), and coughs out, "That's why he can't make them stay."

"Whoa, whoa, you just crossed the line, Sam," Dean rolls his shoulders and confronts Sam, though a evident smirk on his face contradicts the tone,  "you can shut the hell up."

Sam laughs, an actual laugh that throws his head back, exposing his neck.  
To be quite honest, Sam chose a very appealing vessel, and Gabriel wonders if he'll go to hell for that thought.  
Probably not, as he isn't canoodling with the angel in anyway, and wasn't homosexuality a sin? By the way the two angels interacted with each other, probably not.

"Okay, well, it's been fun and all," drawls Gabriel suddenly, waving his hands around to draw the attention towards him, "but Sam and I need to get going."

"I'll tag along- don't mind me, I'll be like that one third-wheeler on a couple's night off," grins Dean, "where to? Bar, club, etcetera?"

"Grocery store," answers Gabriel, and almost immediately Dean's face is wiped clean of any enthusiasm. He relishes the few moments of silence.

Dean heaves a breath, but doesn't verbally complain, instead shrugging, "As the Romans do."

"Really. How about you go do your normal angelic activity and come back when we're done with dinner?"

"Yes," interjects Sam, all too suddenly.

"What, you don't trust me?" Dean feigns mock innocence, "That's a good idea, but I solemnly swear I won't do anything hinky. Not tonight, I mean."

"Right," says Gabriel, and that's the end of that. Compromising with an angel- sounded like a B-rated romcom with unnecessary religious hints. He turns to Thunder, thinking about pulling out the leash, but decided against it. Gabriel could spare an hour without expecting total destruction of all furniture.   
"Right," he repeats underneath his breath, like a mantra.

Right.

\--

The car ride being described as awkward was the understatement of the decade.

Perhaps it had to do with the way Dean ran up to the car, and automatically assumed he was to drive. This sparked another minute lost to bickering between the two angels. Either way, Dean ended up in the shotgun seat, dialing the radio knob into the classic rock station, cranking it up full blast in six at night, and Gabriel laughed at the way Sam locked his jaw to keep from snapping at Dean.

When they get to the market, Sam's stiff from frustration, and Dean's talking about some preference if alcohol he had. All the straight-up stuff, no tasteless margaritas 50% sugar and fruit tastes.  
Whilst Gabriel nods, he certainly didn't agree, because hey, that shit's pretty good no matter how much people (or, huh, angels) denied it.

"No, dude, what brand are you buying?" is the frequent phrase that flies out of Dean's mouth every time Gabriel even picks up an item to inspect- either that or, "This one's a lot better in everything, believe me," shoving another brand under his nose.

On the other hand, Sam is absolutely curious about everything, and spends an irrational duration of time reading slogans of cereal boxes and the stylized text on pickled product jars. 

"I guess we'll make pasta," points Gabriel, when Sam returns from his scavenger hunt, a box of obscurely shaped pasta in his hand of which he presents to Gabriel.

"I find this type appealing and I think you would too."

"I like the classic bow tie pasta, but hey, different strokes for different folks," Dean idly adds.

Gabriel turns to Dean, brows arched, "What do you think, Mr.Culinary King, pesto or tomato sauce?"

"What if I said alfredo?" is the leering response.

Gabriel doesn't reply, instead just turns away, rolling his eyes.  
As he does and places both jars into the shopping cart he points, "where'd Sam go?"

"Probably in the magazine section now," answers Dean, without skipping a beat. "All the TV's going to his brain. Hey, did I tell you he made me watch porn with him?"

"No, but he told me that," muses Gabriel, snickering.

"That kid, seriously."

"Tell me about it. Also, are you staying for dinner?" He's getting _way_ too cozy to a celestial being for this interaction to be normal.

"Who, me?" Dean whistles low, "Nah, I'm fine. There's a few nice bodies I'd like to scope out around here first and I'm on a limited vacation. Enjoy your dinner date though."

Gabriel scoffs, and his head turns to the footsteps. Sure enough, Sam had arrived finally, with a bag of red apples. 

"Hey. These appeared to be on a sale, so I decided to get some."

That's when Gabriel glanced behind him, to snark another remark about Sam to Dean, but he stops when he realizes there's no one beside him. Angels pulling hit-and-runs. What's next, angels playing matchmaker for humans- oh wait, those are cupids.

So that's a yes.

"Gabriel?"

He just sighs. "You can put them in the bag."

When he's in the check-out line (his total rapidly going through the hundreds), he fishes out his phone and finds three new messages. One from Castiel and two from an unknown number.

Easily, he swipes to read the unknown number's message too, fingers poised to send out a message that played along with the context of the wrong dial.

Instead he just stares at, _what up shorty it's the finest angel in heaven_

The next one read, _dean of course_

Gabriel wasn't sure what to expect, and he shuts off his phone before getting the chance to read Castiel's message.

\--

"I guess we'll wait for the food to cool down." Gabriel prods the alfredo.

Sam is silent, until slowly, "I think I might be becoming too sentimental. To people."

"Oh, wow, that's a big problem," Gabriel retorts with a slick sardonic tone. "Does sympathy sound that bad?"

"If you'd asked me when we first met, I'd say that being so would cause a lot of problems." The angel brings his head back up, staring impassively into Gabriel's eyes. "Now, I don't know anymore."

"You're not obliged to know. At least, I hope not."

Sam appears to suppress a smile, but fails only slightly. "Giving second chances, that's- that's still a thing, yeah?"

"I don't know why the hell it wouldn't be." Gabriel shifts his eyes away and back to Sam hastily, "Also. I wanted to ask you a question for, uh, a while."

"Yes." He peers at Gabriel intensely. So much, in fact, it unsettles the human.

"Could you stop doing that?"

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's- it's fine," Gabriel wipes his eyes, "I just wanted to know, what is love? Is it supposed to be all sacred and precious? If so, that would mean humans totally trashed that concept."

"Love?" Sam appears somewhat startled by this topic, but grudges on, nonetheless. "Love is when every member of the party is united and there is nothing that can crumble it except time."

"But is it sacred and all... spiritual?" the human presses.

"I suppose- in the very least sense of that term." Sam narrows his eyes down at the cooling meal. "Whatever you humans may be told, it isn't everywhere, that's ridiculous. In fact, I don't think it's even in most areas of high populace."

Wow. Talk about negativity.

"Huh. Alright," Gabriel shifts in his seat, snatching his fork absent-mindedly. "Did you try the pasta yet? No? Well, don't tell Dean, but I'm probably a better chef than his old ass." 

With those words, he stabs the starchy meal, and Sam softly smiles. Whether out of pity or humor, was unbeknownst him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know what would speed up the writing process?  
> ... comments man just comments


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